


The Breaking Point

by Social_Cocoon



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hunger Games AU, PTSD, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-05-19 14:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14875151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Social_Cocoon/pseuds/Social_Cocoon
Summary: The one thing Fareeha wanted most was to make it through her reaping. Of course, the odds decided to not be in her favor that day.(Hunger Games AU. Title subject to change, and tags will be updated as the story continues)





	1. Chapter 1

Ana had been staring at her ceiling for hours now. It was made of plaster painted brown, smooth and perfect. Of course it was perfect, because everything the Capitol made was perfect. There were a few spots where she’d taken a knife and made a little dent, or a scratch, just to make it a little less, a little normal. They were small, hardly noticeable things, but it had made her feel better.

The sun was beginning to creep through the windows, casting slits of light across the room that slowly crawled their way over the floor and up the wall. They slashed across Ana’s bed, making stripes along her body.

She’d been having trouble sleeping all week. Nightmares plagued her every night, causing her to wake up in a panic. Tonight had been the worst out of all of them. She’d woken up screaming and clawing at someone who wasn’t there, and spent half an hour afterward sobbing into her pillow. Her right eye had stung the entire time.

It was no mystery to her why the past week had been so rough: the reaping was today. Every week leading up to the reaping had been like this for the past four years.

This year, however, it had been just a little worse than before.

The room was almost completely lit by the time Ana decided to get out of bed. She stretched, popping stiff joints, and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. She wasn’t all that hungry, but she hadn’t been eating like she should have all week, and Gabriel was coming over today. He’d eat whatever she didn’t, at least.

Ana pulled the curtains away from the kitchen windows to let in light. They all looked out toward the rest of the Victor’s Village where mansions identical to Ana’s own lined the street. The village had twelve houses in total, but only four of them were occupied, including hers. It used to be five, but Zinnia, Ana’s old mentor, had died a year ago. Hers was the house directly across the street. It used to be lively, considering she’d housed her entire family, but with her death came their eviction. Ana missed them.

She took a moment to reminisce, then set to work making breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and coffee. Simple enough, and all she’d be able to stomach for now.

Ana hummed to herself as she cooked to cut through the silence that pervaded every inch of her house. Unlike Zinnia, she didn’t have a family big enough to fill every single room in her too-large house. Her parents had once lived with her, but sickness had taken both of them soon afterward. She’d had an uncle once, but he’d been killed for being caught one too many times sneaking apples from the orchard to give to his wife and children, and then fighting against the Peacekeepers when they tried to arrest him. His family had been punished as well because of it, and one day just disappeared without a trace. Hard as she tried, she could never find them.

The only family Ana had left was her daughter Fareeha, who was currently with her father, Sam. Ana had tried moving Sam and his family into her house after she’d gotten pregnant, but it didn’t matter that he was Fareeha’s father – he and Ana weren’t married. She was certain she could have done some convincing to get at least Sam moved into the house, but the rest of his family would have had to stay where they were, and Sam wouldn’t leave them behind. She didn’t blame him one bit, however. She wouldn’t have left her family, either, if things had been reversed. She tried to make it up to him, at least, by sending him as much of her income as she could. It was tricky business as the Capitol didn’t very much like victors being generous to others in their community, but he was the father of her child. If he couldn’t live with Fareeha, he could at the very least have something to support her with when she was over, and if that something happened to be more than needed to take care of one child…well, could the Capitol really do anything?

So, Fareeha was the only person who lived with Ana. She stayed with Ana most of the time, only going staying with her father and his family on weekends or certain holidays or birthdays. Or, like now, the few days before the reaping.

Ana was just setting the plates on the table when there was a knock from the back door. She went to it but paused with her hand on the lock.

“What’s the password?” she called.

“‘I’m hungry,’” Gabriel’s gruff voice responded from the other side.

“Wrong.”

“‘I’m starving.’”

“Still wrong.”

“‘Dear God, please let me in, I haven’t eaten in hours and I’m _dying!_ ’”

Ana chuckled and opened the door. Gabriel was standing there with a silly pout on his lips, but it quickly gave way to a toothy grin when she mimicked him. He stepped inside and pulled Ana into a warm hug, picking her off of the floor as he did.

“I’m guessing you just rolled out of bed, hm?” Ana asked when he put her down, noting that Gabriel’s curls looked messy and tangled, his beard had been left untrimmed, and he’d only thrown a light jacket over his pajamas. He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, wincing when a finger got caught on a particularly nasty knot.

“And I’m guessing _you_ still haven’t gotten a decent amount of sleep,” he said as they moved to the little table in the kitchen.

Ana shrugged. “Who needs sleep?”

“You. You need sleep. You’re getting bags under your eyes.”

“Ah, that’s just because I’m getting old.”

Gabriel scoffed through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Please, Ana, you’re not old.”

“I found a grey hair the other day.”

“’S just stress,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Ana shook her head with a smile on her lips.

Gabriel Reyes was Ana’s fellow victor and next-door neighbor, and in fact one of the first few tributes she had mentored. They’d grown close after his victory, and she considered him to be her closest friend. He was a familiar face around her house, enough that he’d been given his own bedroom (which he rejected at first when Ana brought the idea up to him, but after so many nights of passing out on her couch and waking up in bed it just became his). Fareeha loved him, and he absolutely adored her. He’d been wrapped around her finger since she was a baby. In short, he was like family.

One of the most notable things about Gabriel were the scars on his face. They weren’t large, but there were quite a few of them, mostly on the right side of his face. There were scars on other places of his body, too, such as his arms and chest. They were reminders of his time in the Hunger Games and what he’d gone through. Ana had scars along her body as well. She used to have a few small ones along her face, both from before and during her time in the Games, but they’d been erased by the Capitol after her victory. To ‘preserve her beauty’, she supposed. Gabriel would have had his scars removed at well, had he not told them not to. Ana hadn’t been conscious enough to do the same.

Ana touched the skin just under her right eye. There could have been a scar there, to go with the eye she’d lost in the arena, but the Capitol’s doctors had fixed the wound before the scar tissue could form and replaced her missing eye with a new cybernetic one. It looked like it had never been gone. She wondered sometimes what she would have decided had she been awake when they were going to carry out the procedure, and even now she could never settle on one answer for long. She mostly just wished she’d been given the opportunity. It was her body, she should have been able to decide what to do with it.

But, that had been years ago, and thinking about it now didn’t matter. She dropped her hand and tried to eat.

Gabriel ate like a beast compared to Ana. He was already getting seconds by the time she’d put away a quarter of her own food. They talked a little, mostly about family, with occasional breaks for Gabriel to badger Ana about eating more. They deliberately danced around the most obvious topic of the day, but it would come up sooner or later. It was impossible to avoid, despite their best efforts.

Eventually there was no food left and nothing left to talk about. Gabriel leaned back in his seat and tried to seem relaxed, but Ana could already see the tension creeping its way into his posture now that he had nothing to distract him. She pulled her legs up and rested her chin on her knees, and together they stared out the windows.

Usually around this time there would be a few people milling around the street, dressed for work but not quite ready to go just yet. Gabriel and the other two victors, Aster and Winnow, had some family members living with them, and despite living with a victor they all still had to work, as did Fareeha. The victors often joined them. They didn’t have to, but in Ana’s case it had been good to return to normal routine, even if things weren’t so normal for her anymore. She figured the others thought the same way.

On a normal day they’d be getting ready, and some people would already be off to their jobs. Back in the more populated areas of the District the streets would be filling with people, most of them heading for the fields, and they would be buzzing with chatter. Ana would have already cleaned up and dressed before making breakfast. Gabriel would have been at his house either helping in the kitchen or helping to get the little ones ready for the day.

Today was, of course, not a normal day. Not a single person was on the street, and there would be very few out in the rest of the District. Ana suspected that most of them were sleeping in, trying to drag it out as long as they could. She wondered if Fareeha was still asleep right now.

“So,” Gabriel started, and Ana knew the dance was coming to an end.

“So.”

“So, no mentoring this year either, huh?”

She shook her head. “Of course not.” She hadn’t mentored in a long time, not since Fareeha was born. Gabriel knew that, he was just trying to find something to talk about.

“How much longer do you think they’ll let you off the hook?” he asked. ‘They’ being the Capitol.

“Until Fareeha’s passed her final reaping, probably.” After that there would be no more excuses. Fareeha would be an adult who didn’t need her mother taking care of her, and Ana would have to make good on her duty to the Capitol as victor. She wouldn’t be able to hide behind the others to do the mentoring for her much longer anyhow, especially now that Zinnia was gone. At the same time, it wasn’t all that fair to the others. She knew Gabriel hated mentoring, even if he tried to lie about it. The sharp increase in his drinking around this time of year said enough. Still, she’d play on her excuse for a few more years. Maybe she’d be ready for it then.

“Fareeha’s still at Sam’s place, right?” Gabriel asked. Ana nodded.

“She’ll be back in the afternoon, to get ready.”

Gabriel nodded. He gently tapped his fingers on the table and looked out the window. Gabriel was not one for showing his nervousness, but Ana knew him well enough to tell it in the little things. She reached out and placed her hand over his.

“What about you?” she asked. “Are you going this year?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’d rather not, but who knows. Winnow already said she wouldn’t mind going, and Aster was supposed to, but I’m not sure about that anymore.”

Ana nodded. Aster’s mother had fallen ill two weeks ago. There were more than enough people in his house to help take care of her, of course, but it was his mother. Ana wouldn’t want to leave, either.

They sat in silence for a little longer before Ana decided to bring up what had been on her mind for the past week. “Gabe, I’m…worried,” she quietly admitted, eyes fixed on their hands. “More than usual. Something feels different this time. There’s just something off. I’m afraid that…that maybe Fareeha –” It was hard to finish.

Gabriel saved her from trying. “Hey, hey, there’s nothing to worry about. Right? Fareeha’s only put her name in three times. This’ll be her fourth. That’s lucky for a kid in this district. She’ll be okay.”

Ana wanted to believe so. She’d done her best to make sure Fareeha didn’t have to apply for tesserae for her father – that was the reason she’d been increasing how much money Sam got ever since Fareeha was twelve, just to make sure he’d never run out of anything. She’d gotten him food, oil, new clothing…anything his family needed, just so Fareeha wouldn’t have to put her name in more than she needed to, because even one more entry was too much. She’d even bribed the escort for District 11 to take Fareeha’s name out – but Gabriel didn’t know that. No one did, and no one ever would. It was horribly selfish of her, she knew that, but she didn’t want her child, her _only_ child, to go through what she had. Any parent would have done the same if they could, she was sure. Even Gabriel, who had more reason to be tense every year another one of his cousins or a niece or nephew turned twelve.

Everything should have been fine this year. It _should_ have, but it didn’t feel right. Ana was more nervous than ever.

“Hey,” Gabriel said again, leaning around to get Ana’s attention. He tried for a reassuring smile. “Everything’ll be okay.”

She really tried to believe him.

 

“Mom! I’m home!”

“Fareeha!” Ana pulled Fareeha into a hug, squeezing and kissing Fareeha until her daughter managed to struggle out of her clutches. “Oh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” she said dramatically.

Fareeha snorted. “It was only a few days, Mom.”

“That felt like years!”

“You survived.”

“Just barely.”

Ana kissed Fareeha’s cheek again before steering her to the kitchen where lunch was waiting. Fareeha, like Gabriel, ate like a beast.

“Did your father do these?” Ana asked, pinching one of the braids in Fareeha’s hair between her fingers. There were four of them, two on each side, and each were held together at the bottom by a line of golden beads.

“Mhm.”

“They look pretty.” Fareeha mumbled something that Ana assumed was a ‘thanks’, but her mouth was too full to make coherent sounds. She smiled when Ana was about to playfully scold her for talking with her mouth full, and her puffed out cheeks made her look like a chipmunk. Ana decided she couldn’t get mad at that face.

She sat across the table and started on her own lunch. She felt a little more herself with Fareeha back, and a little less anxious. It was silly, worrying about the reaping. Fareeha had good odds. Like Gabriel had said earlier, Fareeha was lucky she only had to put her name in four times this year. When Ana was her age she’d had to enter her name sixteen times.

They chatted while they ate – well, Fareeha did most of the talking. She told Ana all about her time at Sam’s, a couple highlights being when her little cousins convinced her to let them give her a make-over, and then afterward when they joined forces and got Sam to let them give him a make-over as well. Ana didn’t have much to say because she hadn’t done much in the past couple days, and she doubted Fareeha wanted to hear about the sappy romance novel she’d been reading (she didn’t even _want_ to like it, but for all its predictability it was oddly good).

Time passed much too quickly and before they knew it, it was time to begin getting ready. Ana sent Fareeha to bathe while she cleaned up the dishes, then went to her own room to change.

The dress she chose was dark teal. It ended just above her feet and the sleeves reached to her elbows. Aside from a ribbon tied around her waist, it was very plain, but she liked it that way. She would not put on a nice, beautiful dress for a reaping. Never.

She closed the wardrobe. There was a mirror hanging on the door that she’d forgotten to take down before she changed. Years ago she’d stopped looking at herself in the mirror when she dressed for the reapings. Even now she avoided looking, her eyes having automatically snapped away from the mirror the moment she realized it was there. After being reaped, it only served to bring up bad memories.

Today, though, she had a small urge to peek. Maybe now it wouldn’t affect her as much. It had been a long time since then, after all… Tentatively, she lifted her eyes to the mirror, steeling herself for what she would see. Or at least trying to.

There she stood, tall, slim, swathed in teal. The dress fit her very well, she thought, turning a little to see it from different angles. Her hair rested across her shoulder in a thick braid, and she tucked a stray lock behind her ear. She thought she looked pretty.

Then she blinked and saw something else.

The girl in the mirror was eighteen, toned from years of work in the fields and still innocent, in a way. Her hair had been braided and wound into a bun by her mother. The dress she wore was blue and more expensive than anything she had ever worn at the time, and she’d thought it was very beautiful. It was her mother’s, given to her to celebrate her last year of reaping. She would be safe after this. She was nervous, of course, as every child was, but confident. Hopeful. She would be safe.

But then her name was called, and she was so, so afraid.

Ana turned away from the mirror, and it took all her strength to not curl up and cry. She couldn’t. Not while Fareeha was here. She would not send her daughter off afraid. She would not.

She took a moment to collect herself, then went to see if Fareeha was ready.

Fareeha’s dress was deep blue, her favorite color, and for a moment Ana thought she hadn’t left the mirror in her room at all. But, this dress was not the same as her mother’s. It was short, as were the sleeves, and like Ana’s it was plain. The color went well with the golden beads in her hair. She was looking at herself in the mirror when Ana came in, and could not remove the anxiety on her face quick enough.

“You don’t need to hide your feelings from me, Fareeha,” Ana said, walking over and placing a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. “I know how you feel. I felt the same way at each of my reapings.”

Fareeha nodded, but was still tense.

“It’ll be over with in a few hours,” Ana said, to both of them. “Everything will be all right.”

“I hope so.”

“And then afterward we can go and celebrate with your father,” she offered. “Another year down.”

This time when Fareeha nodded, she seemed a little less uneasy.

“How did you get through it?” she asked quietly while Ana smoothed out her dress. “Feeling nervous like this, I mean.”

Ana had to take a moment to recall those memories. They weren’t something she liked to think about often, and she had tried to bury them deep within her. “I think I just toughed it out. Not the best advice, I know, but I was terrified, too. I told myself things like it would all be fine, and that there were many other people who were more unlucky than me and had to enter their name more times than I had.”

“What about…the day your name _was_ called?” Fareeha asked hesitantly, then bit her lip and began to look apologetic. She usually avoided asking Ana anything about her Games, and even when she did Ana usually didn’t indulge her. This time, however…

“It was the same, except I was eighteen, so it was my last year,” Ana said with a small sigh. “So, I’d started thinking that I’d pass my last year just fine, just like every other year. I was confident that I would. It does help somewhat, to think that way.”

This little tidbit made Fareeha bold, so she tried to pry out more. “Were you, um…were you surprised?”

Ana thought about it. “No, I don’t think I really was. My name had been put in twenty-eight times then. Not as much as some people, but it was still a lot.” Surprised, no. Angry? Scared? Upset? Yes. The memory of how she felt while walking up to the stage came easily, too easily. She shook her head and forced the memories down again. That was enough about that. “Come on, it’s getting late. We should head down and meet the others.”

Fareeha’s lips pressed into a thin line. She had obviously having to coax out more, but she nodded and followed her mother without another word.

Outside they met with the other victors and their families, and together walked to the entrance of the Victor’s Village. Aster had managed to get a wheelchair for his mother and was now pushing her down the road. She was clearly sick, but not dying just yet, so she had to attend the reaping. The Peacekeepers didn’t care if you were a small child or a sick old woman, or even the mother of a victor – if you weren’t present to witness two scared children being given their death sentence, you would be jailed.

At the gate they met with the last member of their party: Fareeha’s father. He was dressed in a simple white button up shirt and brown pants (not the best outfit he owned, but he, like Ana and many others around their age, had decided to stop dressing up nicely for such a sadistic event a long time ago), and his long hair had been tied back in a neat bun. He greeted Fareeha and Ana with kisses to their cheeks and said a quick “Hello” to the others, then fell in line beside Fareeha.

“I hear you look good in lipstick,” Ana whispered.

“I look amazing,” Sam replied with a smirk.

Aside from that small exchange, the walk to the square was a quiet one, thick with tension that only weighed down on them more and more the closer they got. Even the youngest and rowdiest children were deathly silent. This may have been what Ana hated the most about the reaping. It made her antsy. Gabriel was starting to fidget as well.

They finally merged with the rest of District 11’s population, though the silence continued unbroken, and only a short while later came in view of the main square. A row of tables was set up at the very front entrance, each with two Peacekeepers sitting behind them and signing people in. Behind the tables was a large empty space with fourteen sections marked off by ropes, and children were already being ushered into their designated spots. At the very back of the square was the stage. There was a podium in the center and two large glass balls on either side, both filled nearly to the brim with little white cards. Behind those were six chairs, four on her left and two on her right.

Everyone stopped and took one last moment with their children. Ana and Sam hugged Fareeha and kissed her and told her that everything would be alright just like last year, and then they said goodbye and watched her walk away.

“It never gets any easier,” Sam muttered with a heavy sigh.

Ana let out a shaky breath. “No,” she agreed. “It doesn’t.”

Sam put his arm around her and gave her a quick squeeze, then left to sign in and find the rest of his family. Ana waited for the other victors to finish their goodbyes, then they all walked past the tables and around to the stage, signed in with the Peacekeepers at the stairs, and took their seats.

Ana couldn’t help noticing as she was signed in that there were four Peacekeepers stationed to this side of the stage, and four more on the other side. It used to be that there was only one for each side, but since two years ago more had been added. The perimeter of the square was lined with more Peacekeepers than before as well. She knew full well that the sudden increase was due to the Capitol’s fears of a possible rebellion, thanks to one group of particularly bold children, but at the same time thought it was excessive and unnecessary. Growing up in District 11 tended to break any brave spirits. Break, or erase them.

She shook her head and let the Peacekeepers fall from her mind.

The whole process of signing in every person in the district took a torturously long time. There were so many people, too many to fit into the entire space. Those who were safe from reaping stood at the perimeter of the square, and were packed tightly together as more and more arrived. Eventually the rest would have to stand out in the streets. Even the children gathered in the center had to squish together.

Ana searched for Fareeha among the crowded fifteen-year-olds, and finally found her when Fareeha stuck her hand up. She raised her own and gave a small wave. After that she never had any trouble finding her again.

“Victors.”

Ana turned to the mayor who had just appeared onstage and immediately stood, the other three following suit. She looked behind him to where she expected Clio Tembo, District 11’s escort, to be, and was horrified to find a stranger in her place.

It was obvious from first glance that he was from the Capitol. His hair was a bright pastel green and piled atop his head to form a cylindrical structure somewhat reminiscent of a pompadour. His eyebrows, curled mustache and goatee were the same shade of green. His face was caked in make-up that made him look unnaturally pale, and he wore a purple suit with a white shirt that had giant ruffles running down the front. A black ribbon was tied multiple times around his neck, stopping in a large bow under his chin.

The mayor shook hands with each victor, then introduced them to the man. “This is Ambrose Royale, our District’s new escort.”

Ambrose smiled, and his teeth were unnaturally white, nearly matching his skin. He took Ana’s hand and moved to kiss her cheek, but she flinched away.

“My apologies,” the mayor hurried to say. “We aren’t used to the same greetings that you are in the Capitol.”

“I see,” Ambrose said in a high voice. He settled for shaking her hand, and she could not have pulled away fast enough once he’d been satisfied.

“What, ah, what happened to Clio Tembo?” Ana asked when he’d moved on to Gabriel.

“Poor thing is dead,” Ambrose responded casually. “She had a heart attack a few weeks ago. It was sad, really. She was such a dear.”

The way he spoke, it didn’t sound so sad.

They all returned to their seats after the greeting was out of the way and continued waiting. Ambrose chatted up the mayor who seemed content enough in his presence, even if he occasionally side-eyed Ambrose. Ana was trying her hardest not to let her anxiety show. She had been counting on Clio to keep Fareeha safe. Now…there was absolutely no way she’d be able to take Ambrose aside and attempt to bribe him, not when the reaping was about to start. Who knew if he’d even take the bribe? Ambrose looked young compared to Clio, he probably hadn’t even been born when Ana had gone through the Games. Anything from her, even a one-of-a-kind painting, meant nothing to him, not like with Clio.

At two o’clock the mayor rose from his seat and approached the podium. Ana clasped her hands between her legs to keep them steady. Beside her, Gabriel was tapping the edge of his seat.

The mayor launched into a brief retelling of the history of Panem and the Hunger Games, a story that Ana could recite by memory at this point. He read off the rules of the Games, and this too was unnecessary. Every single person in Panem knew the rules of the Hunger Games.

Then he named District 11’s few victors, and they each stood to applause as their name was called: Ana, victor of the 41st Hunger Games, who was the oldest surviving victor now that Zinnia was gone; Gabriel, victor of the 44th Hunger Games; Aster, victor of the 56th Hunger Games; and Winnow, victor of the 60th Hunger Games. He also mentioned Zinnia, victor of the 15th Hunger Games, and called for a moment of silence for her passing. Ana eyed the camera crews atop the roofs of surrounding buildings and wondered if the Capitol had enough respect to fall silent as well.

The mayor then introduced Ambrose Royale and informed the District of Clio Tembo’s death. Another moment of silence, but it meant less than Zinnia’s. There was little love for the Capitol here.

The mayor returned to his seat, signaling the end of the silence, and Ambrose took his place. “Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be in your favor!” he said cheerfully, his grating voice echoing throughout the streets of District 11. Ana let out a quiet, sardonic huff. ‘Happy’ was not the word she’d use for it.

She glanced over at Gabriel whose tapping had become more insistent and reached over to place her hand on his. She wanted to give him a smile, but couldn’t bring herself to do it, and he’d know she was only doing it for his benefit anyhow. This simple gesture would have to do. His tapping stopped for the moment, at least.

Ana turned back around just as Ambrose pulled the name of the unlucky girl out of one of the glass balls with a flourish, as if it were something magnificent. He stepped to the podium, cleared his throat, and announced,

“Fareeha Amari.”


	2. Chapter 2

She didn’t really remember walking up to the stage.

One moment Fareeha had been standing squashed against the other girls in her block, standing as still as possible so she could avoid accidentally elbowing anyone. All the bodies packed together gave off a warmth that slowly became suffocating, and it didn’t help that today was a dry, sunny day. By the time the mayor had taken the podium, she’d already begun to sweat.

She remembered watching him but not really listening, because she was so focused on how uncomfortably sticky she was becoming. She watched him introduce the victors and the new escort who stood out like a sore thumb with all his bright colors. She watched the escort stand at the podium and speak in that high tone and strange accent the Capitol’s people were known for, then make his way to the glass ball that held the names of all the girls in the district.

The next moment she was beginning to mount the steps to the stage, and was very much alone.

Her body was moving on its own, mechanically placing one foot in front of the other. She could see where it was taking her, but couldn’t process it. There was a distant pounding in her ears, but she couldn’t quite figure out where it was coming from, and couldn’t turn her head or even her eyes to look for it. She couldn’t figure out how.

As she reached the top, a sudden cry shook her from her haze. It stunned her for a moment, and she couldn’t figure out where this sound was coming from either. It came again, a horrible, wretched sound, like something was dying, or someone’s heart was breaking in two.

She realized, then, that it was her mother.

“No! No, _no!_ ” Ana was screaming. _Screaming_. “Not Fareeha! Please, no!” She tried to get up from her seat – to run for her daughter or charge the escort, Fareeha didn’t know – but Gabriel was out of his seat in an instant and grabbed her, wrapping his arms tight around her to hold her back. She struggled against him, but couldn’t break free. Her face was crumpled up in horror and pain and anger, and it terrified Fareeha.

Finally she gave up fighting and broke down sobbing, sinking to her knees and taking Gabriel with her. He had gone from restraining her to almost cradling her as she cried, and he could not duck his head fast enough to hide his own tears. In some ways, this was worse.

Fareeha stood at the edge of the stage, frozen and afraid and now painfully aware of what was happening: It was her name. She was going to the Hunger Games. She was going to die.

The escort – Ambrose – cleared his throat. “Come on over, dear,” he said to Fareeha, smiling at her. It looked too big on him and made his cheeks wrinkle in a way that made him look all the more fake and all the more terrifying. She had never seen anyone from the Capitol up close before, and was wishing she’d never had to.

The mayor was at her side then, guiding her to the center of the stage since she still wouldn’t move on her own. His expression was carefully controlled, but when they locked eyes something changed. He looked…troubled, she thought.

She shook her head. Troubled? For her? No. The mayor was a strict bastard that everyone hated, and he hated everyone. It was more likely that he was annoyed at the interruption than upset on her account.

Fareeha was left standing stiffly near Ambrose, too close than she found comfortable. The mayor returned to his seat, and for all she disliked him, she wished he hadn’t left. She needed something to hold on to.

Ambrose cleared his throat again, this time into the microphone. Fareeha almost struggled to hear him through the still present pounding – her heart, she eventually realized. “Are there any volunteers?” he asked calmly, as if a woman hadn’t just burst into hysterics behind him.

Fareeha looked out to all the girls who stood tightly together, watching her. She wished someone would speak up and take her place, and tried her hardest to not feel angry and disappointed when no one would. She hadn’t, after all, in any of the past years. In fact, she had always been glad that it hadn’t been her. Could she blame them?

A small part in the back of her mind thought yes, yes she could.

After the short silence, Ambrose decided to continue on. Fareeha’s heart dropped like a stone. “And now,” he said brightly, “for the male tribute!”

He crossed to the other glass ball with a spring in his step that was downright insulting. Movement from behind caught Fareeha’s eye just in time for her to see Gabriel leading her mother away. Ana could barely stand straight, leaning heavily into Gabriel for support. Her hands were pressed over her mouth, but the muffled sobs still reached Fareeha.

“Wait,” Fareeha said in a hoarse whisper. She wanted to reach out, to pull them back and have them stand with her, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t _move_. She just stood there and watched them leave, and felt even more alone when they were gone.

Ambrose returned with the slip. He held it out in front of him, paused for dramatic effect, and said, “Jesse McCree.”

This day couldn’t get any worse.

Fareeha watched, horrified, as Jesse pushed his way through the group of eighteen-year-olds and headed for the stage. He was scowling as he climbed the stairs, and looked very much like he wanted to punch Ambrose. Or anyone. He locked with her eyes for a brief moment when he had taken his place.

Jesse was Fareeha’s closest friend. They’d known each other since they were little, having met during Fareeha’s first few days working in the fields. She’d been struggling with the work, not because of her small size or her inexperience, but because she was too ambitious and wanted to do more than required of her. Jesse had decided to help after watching her struggle for so long, and they struck up a friendship afterward – well, mote like Fareeha had latched onto him. He had no choice but to be her friend.

He continued to help her learn the ropes of what children like her were supposed to do, taught her tricks to finishing the work faster, and taught her how and when to slack off without getting caught. In return, Fareeha shared the food she brought from home with him and took the fall for some of his more serious mistakes when the Peacekeepers called him out. She’d known that they wouldn’t punish her as severely as him, being Ana Amari’s daughter and all, so taking the fall had never been a huge deal for her.

The friendship continued outside of work as well. They would often walk home from work or school, always talking about what they dreamed of doing if they could leave the district. Jesse would show her places in the district that the Peacekeepers didn’t know or care about, and how to get into places that had been sealed away from the public, and sometimes Fareeha would surprise him by finding places of her own. They stayed at each other’s houses every so often and would stay up late into the night playing games or talking and talking until they were too sleepy to make real words. They would tease each other endlessly, encourage each other to do things that they both knew were stupid ideas, and were always quick to stand up for the other. To her, Jesse was family.

And now they were going to be thrown into an arena and forced to kill each other.

She wanted to scream.

The mayor retook the podium to finish off the reaping. When he gestured for the two tributes to shake hands, they did. Jesse’s frown softened when they finally faced each other, and he looked pained. Fareeha grabbed his hand and shook, and she did not want to let go.

 

She finished screaming into a pillow by the time her family came in.

The explosion of noise made her jump. Her father was the first one into the room, followed by her uncle and aunts and cousins. He pulled her from the couch she sat on and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. It was painful, but she didn’t mind. She hugged him just as tightly, if not tighter.

She was passed around to the rest of her family once he managed to tear himself away, but he kept a hand on her at all times. Her shoulder, her arm, her back. It was comforting, stabilizing.

Each person who held her had tears in their eyes, or if not they were doing their best to hold it all in. Her little cousins didn’t care to keep their emotions down – the ones who understood what was going on were openly crying. The ones who didn’t knew at least that something was wrong, and just being told that Fareeha was going to be gone for a very long time was enough to make them upset. They clung to her legs and begged for her not to go.

“I’m sorry,” Fareeha whispered to them, but it was all she could manage. She didn’t know what to do to make them feel any better. She didn’t think she could. The most she could do was stay strong and not cry in front of them, or anyone else. It was hard, though, and she began to wonder how long it would be until she broke.

Fareeha scanned the room. “Where’s Mom?” she asked, looking back at Sam. He was crying, too, and she tried hard not to focus on the tears trailing down his cheeks. He didn’t cry, _really_ cry, often, and it was jarring to see now. It almost pushed her over the edge.

Sam sighed, wiping away some of his tears. “Getting her things ready,” he said, and he sounded very tired. “She’ll be going with you as your mentor. Gabriel, too.”

“Oh.” Part of her had already figured this, though the other part had thought Ana would have stayed home as she always did, not wanting to be there to watch her own daughter die. She was glad, and at the same time it upset her. Her mother hated the Hunger Games, so much that she refused to mentor and, aside from once three years ago, never ever watched them. Fareeha had to go to someone else’s house to watch the Games, and afterward she might tell her mother a thing or two about what happened, but only if Ana asked. Usually the most she cared to hear was what the arena was like and which District won that year. Some other things infuriated her, making her angrier and angrier at the Capitol than she already was.

It wasn’t only that she despised the Games, but she was afraid of them. Horribly afraid. Fareeha knew about the times that Ana woke up in a panic because of nightmares about what happened during her time in the arena, no matter how hard Ana tried to hide the fact from her. She knew what things to avoid talking about because it would make her mom relive things that were better left buried and forgotten. She knew that among the old vids of previous Games that had been placed in their house, only her mom’s was missing. She didn’t know exactly what happened because Ana never liked to talk about it and no one else who knew would go into detail out of respect, but she knew it was awful. She knew her mother had lost her eye. Maybe that was enough.

Sam moved to stand in front of Fareeha. She was tall for her age, very nearly as tall as him, but he still leaned over so they were eye level and placed his hands on her shoulders. She saw the faint wrinkles at the corners of his puffy eyes and around his mouth and imagined how prominent they became when he smiled. She wished he would smile now. She didn’t want this to be her last memory of him.

“Listen to me, Fareeha,” he said, deadly serious. “When you get into the arena, you do anything you can to survive. _Anything_. Fight as hard as you can, harder than any of the other tributes. Kill if you have to. Do whatever…and you come back to us. All of us. Understand?”

Fareeha nodded. Her stomach was churning.

The Peacekeepers came in shortly after. It would take a bit for everyone to file out, so Sam took the opportunity to linger and hug Fareeha one more time.

“I love you so much, Fareeha,” he said, squeezing her.

“I-I love you, too,” she whispered, trying her hardest to not lose her composure.

He kissed her forehead, stroked her cheek as if ridding invisible tears, and gave her one last smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll see you again.”

She didn’t want to say anything, didn’t know if she could past the lump in her throat, so she just nodded.

A Peacekeeper came and pulled her father away from her, and she wanted nothing more than to pull him back, kick out the Peacekeepers and spend just a moment longer with her family. But, she knew better.

Her next visitors were Aster and Winnow. Both of them walked in with sad and tired looks on their faces, and they seemed older than they actually were. They sat her down and gave her a few tips on what to focus on when training began, knowing how to survive the arena being the most important.

“You won’t last long if you can’t feed yourself,” Aster told her. “Ana and Gabriel will do all they can for the two of you, but sponsors aren’t always a guarantee. You know a lot about plants, at least, it’s just getting meat that might be trouble for you.”

“You, especially, will need to get used to small meals,” Winnow advised. “You’ve grown up able to eat regularly, but that won’t happen in the arena. Remember to preserve whatever food you find.”

Fareeha nodded. She knew already that food would be an issue, it always was. She didn’t know how she would handle it, however, and that made her nervous. Many people in District 11 went hungry, but she’d never been part of that. Even when staying with her father and his family, he usually got enough money from her mother to feed everyone. Not as well as Ana could, and the food wasn’t always the best, but it was enough that they usually never missed a meal. They were kept fed, which was more than most could say.

They gave her other advice as well on how to play the Capitol. Her being the daughter of a victor and Ana’s reaction during the reaping had likely already garnered interest in her. She just needed to keep it.

The Peacekeepers arrived before Aster and Winnow had said everything they’d wanted to and before Fareeha could ask all of her questions. They both hugged her, wished her luck, and left her alone.

Her third visitor was Jesse’s mom, Calla. She came in puffy-eyed and red-nosed, carrying a cloth that she occasionally used to dab at her nose. She immediately hugged Fareeha, then began to say she was so sorry that Fareeha’s name had gotten picked and that she wished it hadn’t and she couldn’t imagine what Fareeha was going through. Fareeha didn’t know how to answer her, so she didn’t.

“How’s Jesse?” she asked instead, and almost instantly regretted that she had. Calla’s face crumpled up and tears began to well in her eyes. She gripped the cloth tightly between both hands and turned her face from Fareeha for a moment to collect herself. Fareeha didn’t bother her. She knew it was hard. Jesse was Calla’s only child, after all.

Calla took a few deep, shaky breaths until she managed to calm down, then turned back to Fareeha. “Acting strong for his mama, as always,” she said with a sad smile. “I’m sure he’s scared, though…” Fareeha only nodded.

Calla sighed and moved to sit on the couch behind Fareeha, then gestured for Fareeha to sit beside her. She took one of Fareeha’s hand in her own and opened her mouth to say something, then paused and thought against whatever she was going to say. Instead she asked, “Is your mom going?”

“Yeah. And Gabriel.”

“Good, that’s good…”

Fareeha thought that it wasn’t that good for Ana and Gabriel, but she didn’t tell Calla that.

Calla pursed her lips. “Fareeha, I have a favor to ask. When you’re in the arena…please look out for Jesse. Don’t…don’t _throw_ yourself at the other kids, but keep Jesse safe as best as you can.” Her grip on Fareeha’s hand tightened. “I won’t try to pretend, and I won’t ask you to bring him back to me, but…I’ll still be rooting for you both. So, please, keep each other safe as long as you can, and take care of Jesse for me.” She stared Fareeha dead in the eye as she spoke, and Fareeha could see that there wasn’t a shred of hope in them. Calla, who loved her son as much as any mother should, wasn’t allowing herself to even hope that Jesse would come back.

Fareeha felt a lump form in her throat. She couldn’t imagine saying no even if she wanted to.

“I will,” she said.

There were no more visitors after that.


	3. Chapter 3

They held hands the entire ride.

Fareeha watched District 11 pass by, trying to commit every detail and every face to memory. She wished they could have gone by the fields so she could remember that, too. It wasn’t her favorite place, but there were some good memories there.

Jesse was watching the district as well. He attempted to look casual and relax, but his body was rigid with tension. Every time the car went over a particularly large bump, he squeezed Fareeha’s hand and didn’t let up until a minute or so had passed.

They hadn’t spoken to each other yet, aside from quiet ‘Hey’s when they’d been ushered into the car. There were two Peacekeepers sitting in the front, and it didn’t feel safe to talk around them. It never had. Even a simple ‘How are you doing?’ seemed almost dangerous.

The car made its way through the streets, slowly. It wasn’t that there was anything blocking the streets or that the train station was very far. They, the Capitol, wanted people to see the tributes leaving. In richer districts where being a tribute was something honorable, everyone from the district willingly turned up to see them off and treated it like a celebration. In the rest of the districts it was the opposite. It was a quiet and sad thing, watching the car roll by, knowing it was the last time the tributes would see their home, and the last time their home would see them. Even now there were people lining the streets, standing silent, looking sad. Fareeha recognized so many faces, and the thought of never seeing any of them again…

She turned away from the window. This wasn’t how she wanted to remember her home.

They finally came to a stop in front of the train station. Fareeha and Jesse were hurried out of the car and ushered toward the train. It was slow going as Capitol reporters and their cameras had taken up every inch of the station and they all clamored to get clear shots of the tributes. Fareeha’s grip on Jesse’s hand was like steel. She tried to avoid looking at any of the cameras, but it seemed every time she turned away another one was shoved right in her face.

When they finally reached the train they were made to turn around and face the cameras yet again. Fareeha glanced at one of the large televisions planted in the station and saw herself standing there with Jesse, clasped hands held behind their backs as they did their best to not squish each other against the frame of the narrow doorway. Jesse wasn’t looking at any of the cameras, just like her, instead glaring off toward a distant spot above everyone’s heads. She wished she looked as surly as he did.

Finally they were allowed inside and the door shut behind them, cutting off the chaos of the station. Both of them let out sighs.

The train began moving almost immediately, and they nearly fell over. Fareeha stumbled and held onto the wall. She’d let go of Jesse’s hand and her own was left colored red, fingers tingling as feeling returned to them.

She crossed over to one of the windows and watched the district pass by. Children who had escaped their parents ran alongside the train, keeping up as best as they could once it really started to pick up speed, and waved to her. She waved back until the train became too fast and left them behind. She couldn’t smile even for them.

Fareeha didn’t stay at the window much longer after that. In any other situation, she might have enjoyed the train. She didn’t get to ride trains very often, and she’d never been on one so fast, but it was hard to be excited now. Her hand lingered against the window pane for a moment, then she pushed herself away and turned around.

Jesse hadn’t been watching the windows but had instead been gaping at the extravagance of the train. Everything was sleek and, she was sure, ridiculously expensive. The windows themselves were long panes of glass that stretched from one end of the compartment to the other with no breaks in between. The furniture was clean and polished to the point where they nearly reflected their surroundings. On either side of the two doors leading in and out of the compartment were large paintings of beautiful places that she’d never seen before. Overhead, the middle section of the roof had been turned into a skylight and served as the lighting for now. This train was from the Capitol, so of course is was ridiculously luxurious. Her mother’s house didn’t even stack up to this.

They weren’t allowed to ogle for long before Ambrose appeared to show them to their rooms, which were equally as fancy. He told them that dinner would be ready in two hours, and if they liked they could join him to watch District 12’s reaping live after they cleaned up.

“Where’s my mom?” Fareeha asked, ignoring his invitation.

“She’s here, don’t you worry. You’ll see each other soon enough. Now, go on and get clean,” he said, shooing her into the room.

Fareeha sighed, some of the tension in her easing away just a bit. Her mom was here, they’d see each other in a bit. She’d shower and dress as quickly as possible, then.

Or, that had been the plan until she began to undress. She went to undo her braids, then paused when her fingers brushed against the golden beads her father had given her. She’d forgotten all about them. She’d meant to give them back after the reaping…

Slowly, she pulled the beads from her hair and set them side by side on the counter. They were pure gold, not a cheap imitation, or so her father had said. Most in District 11 couldn’t afford anything like these. He couldn’t either, but these had been his great-grandfather’s. She should have given them back. Now she’d never have the chance…

A wave of sadness washed over Fareeha. It started with a small gasp that grew into whimpering that became outright sobbing. She sank to the floor and curled into a ball, crying into her arms for a home she’d never see again. She cried for her family, who would have to helplessly watch her die. She cried for her mother, who would do all she could and yet be unable to stop it.

She cried for herself, because she was so, so afraid.

 

When Fareeha finally calmed down she found herself laying on the floor, the tile pressing uncomfortably into her shoulder and hip. Her eyes and nose stung in the aftermath, but she didn’t cry anymore. She didn’t feel like she could.

Eventually she pushed herself up and stretched out her stiff muscles, then finished undressing and climbed into the shower. She stood very still under the water for a long time, staring off into the distance. Whatever nervousness in her had been cried out for the moment, and left her feeling exhausted. She almost didn’t want to leave the room. But, her mother was out there.

After her shower she pulled on a white blouse and black pants that she’d grabbed earlier. She looked at herself in the mirror and saw that the puffiness around her eyes had faded some, hopefully enough that no one would notice if they weren’t looking very hard. At least her nose didn’t look red, and the sniffling wasn’t as bad as it had been before.

The beads were still on the counter. For a moment she considered redoing her braids and putting them back on, then decided against it. Instead she put them in her pockets, not wanting to leave them there only to find them gone when she came back.

Instead of heading out straight away, Fareeha moved to one of the windows in her room. She’d noticed that they were nearing the wall that cut off District 11 from the rest of the world. Her stomach tied itself up into a little knot as they got closer and closer.

She’d never been outside of the district before. The closest she could ever get was by standing at the fence and watch the little animals that lived freely on the other side. She couldn’t even touch the fence because it was electrified and kept on at all hours of the day and night. She never imagined she would ever be able to go outside the fence. There was no way to climb it because, aside from the constant electric current, it was topped with razor wire that would tear her to shreds. She was sure it extended far under the ground, too, so there was no digging under it. Even if it didn’t, Peacekeepers were stationed around the fence and patrolled it every so often and they’d catch her one way or another.

On days were she had no work and no school to go to, she would occasionally lay near the fence and watch the birds fly over it. She would daydream about turning into a bird and going over the wall, too. Exploring what else was out there. Visiting other districts and seeing how different they were for herself. Now that she was finally getting her wish, she didn’t want it.

The giant steel beams came ever closer, and Fareeha’s heart stuttered when they were nearly right outside her window. For a moment, just before the train passed the fence, she had an irrational thought: they wouldn’t make it. They’d get stopped by the Peacekeepers and sent back, or they’d crash right into it, or the train would just stop, and she wouldn’t leave.

Then the fence passed by her window, the gate’s checkpoint whisking past her. The few Peacekeepers there were just a blur. Fareeha let go of a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

Outside the fence… Now she was in unfamiliar territory, and she would be from this point on. She didn’t know what to expect, and in other, better circumstances she would be excited for that fact. Not now. Fareeha turned away.

She ran into her mother just as she was leaving the room. There was a brief pause before they rushed into each other’s arms, holding each other in vice-like grips. Fareeha almost wanted to cry again from relief.

They pulled away from each other shortly after, but not very far. Ana cupped Fareeha’s face in her hands and looked her over, her brow pinched together in worry. She looked close to tears, too.

“I’m so sorry,” Ana finally choked out. “I never wanted you to…this isn’t something you should have ever had to go through. And I’m so sorry for how I acted up there, when you were called. I should have been…better about it,” she said, almost cringing on the word ‘better’. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Fareeha shook her head and tried for a small smile. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I –”

“Mom,” Fareeha said, gently but loud enough to get her full attention. “It’s okay.”

Ana paused, again searching Fareeha’s face. Her lips briefly pressed together, and she looked like she wanted to keep arguing about why it wasn’t okay at all. Instead, she shook her head and changed topics. “How are you doing, Fareeha? After all of that.”

“I…I’m fine now. I’m scared, but…okay, now.”

Ana sighed and nodded. “I was scared, too. But this is…the train ride, this is the least scary part of…everything.” Another sigh. “Come with me, dinner’s ready and the others are waiting.”

“Even Ambrose?”

“Of course.” For her mother’s sake Fareeha let out an overdramatic groan, and was pleased when Ana smiled. “Come on, the sooner we get there the sooner it’ll be over with.”

Ana led her down a hallway and into a dining room where Ambrose, Gabriel, and Jesse were already waiting. Ambrose sat at the head of the table, with Gabriel and Jesse on one side and two empty chairs on the other. Gabriel and Jesse had been quietly talking with each other, but the moment the Ana and Fareeha entered Gabriel got up from his seat and pulled Fareeha into a hug.

“Hey,” Gabriel said when they pulled away.

“Hey,” Fareeha echoed.

“How’re you?”

“I’m okay.” Then to avoid any lengthy talk of ‘it’s gonna be okay, I’m sorry you got chosen,’ and so on, she added, “Kinda hungry.”

Gabriel nodded and nudged her on over to her seat, ruffling her hair before going back to his own chair.

Fareeha sat across from Jesse and noticed that his eyes were a little puffy. She gave him a small wave. He nodded, then pointed at the table and gave her an incredulous look. They all had delicate-looking plates in front of them with an array of forks of all sizes laying off to one side and knives and spoons on the other. She glanced back up at him and shrugged to say that she had no idea what it was all for either. What would you need more than one of each for? She picked up the smallest fork to inspect it, but was quickly told by Ambrose to put it back.

“Excellent!” he said once the Amaris had settled into their seats. That creepy smile was on his face again. “Now supper can begin!”

The first thing Ana and Gabriel did was warn Fareeha and Jesse to not eat too much because it was a full-course dinner, so food would just keep coming. They didn’t listen. On Fareeha’s part, she’d been taught to finish all the food on her plate, so she could later blame her aching stomach on her mother. And, well, it was all just so _good_ , she wanted to have as much of it as she could. On Jesse’s part, the food that came out was so rich and so plentiful compared to what he usually had that he just couldn’t help himself from eating everything he could get his hands on. Gabriel tried to tell him to slow down and quit stuffing his face, but upon seeing Ambrose’s discomfort at Jesse’s eating habits, he started to wolf down his food as well. Fareeha followed their example. Their insistence on using a single fork and spoon also seemed to irk Ambrose.

Fareeha noticed while they ate that Ana wasn’t eating as much as everyone else. She would take a few small bites of whatever was on her plate, then sit and twirl her fork between her fingers or play with a bit of food, staring off into the distance as she did. Subtly, Fareeha tried to get Ana to eat more with every course. She knew her mom got in moods like these sometimes where she couldn’t eat much, especially during the weeks leading up to the reaping, and ever since she understood why she’d made sure to make her mom eat at least something.

“Have you tried this before?” Fareeha asked once when she was given duck (which she gaped at for a few seconds together with Jesse). Ana glanced over, shaken out of her trance for the moment, and pursed her lips. A small smile was tugging at the corner. She knew what Fareeha was trying to do. She always did.

“I think once a long time ago,” she said, “but I don’t remember if I liked it.”

Fareeha held out a piece of meat on her fork. She knew that if Ana wouldn’t eat for herself, she’d eat for other people. “Try it! Tell me how it is.”

Especially for her daughter.

Throughout dinner Ambrose attempted light conversation, but it was obvious that he didn’t have any idea what to talk about. When he tried to bring up the Games, none of them responded. When he tried to talk about their district and pretend he thought it was lovely (despite all his stuttering and pausing to try and find nice things to say), they only gave grunt and hums. He had some success in asking Ana about her paintings and Gabriel about his clothing designs (as that were their talents they’d taken up after becoming victors), but even then Ana and Gabriel didn’t have much to say to him. Gabriel finally asked him something about the Capitol, and he took the opportunity to ramble on about the latest gossip and scandals and fashion trend. At one point Fareeha wondered if he noticed that none of them were really listening, or if he didn’t care.

Fareeha had finally decided she was done eating when she thought about going for a third éclair and felt her stomach churn just by _looking_ at it. She grimaced and leaned away. Jesse looked about ready to run for the nearest bathroom, or even just for one of the potted plants nearby.

“We tried to warn you,” Ana said, chuckling. Fareeha groaned.

They waited a little to let the two get over their stomach aches before Ambrose brought them into a room with a large TV on one wall and an L-shaped couch against the other. It was time to watch the recap of all the reapings.

Jesse and Fareeha flopped onto the couch, sinking a little into the cushions. Jesse turned to her and muttered, “If we weren’t bein’ carted off to the Games right now, I’d think this place was heaven.”

“Hey, both of you,” Gabriel said, serious but not sharp. “Pay attention. This is important.”

The two glanced at each other, then pushed themselves upright and tried to be more alert.

“It’s good to get an idea of what your competitors may be like,” Ana added while the program started. “At the very least you can start deciding who looks like a threat and who doesn’t.”

“It’s like when you watch the Games at home and try and decide how tributes will do. Except, now you’re in it and you’re deciding how well you’ll do against them, and they’re doing the same to you,” Gabriel said. Fareeha grimaced and turned to watch as District 1’s reaping began.

District 1’s tributes were named Amelie and Gerard. They took the stage with easy grace, smiling like they’d been given a great privilege. Well, that probably _was_ how they saw it, considering District 1 was so big on the Games. At first they didn’t seem very outstanding, aside from both being very attractive which would certainly catch sponsors right off the bat (not that they needed the extra help. Sponsors always flocked to the Career tributes), but then instead of shaking each other’s hands, they kissed.

“Oh!” Ambrose squealed. “Lovers! How exciting!”

Ana gave him a sidelong glance, then said to the others, “I’m sure that’ll help them get even more sponsors. Everyone loves a _tragic_ love story, don’t they?” She glanced at Ambrose again as she said the word ‘tragic’. “Where no one gets to be happy.” Ambrose didn’t react.

District 2’s tributes were called Satya and Sanjay. They were also very relaxed onstage, though seemed more professional in their attitude. Satya kept a straight face and stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her, and this alone made her intimidating to Fareeha. Sanjay wasn’t as completely held together as Satya, and stood grinning from ear to ear. He already looked eager to be in the arena.

The tributes from District 3 were a tiny girl named Terra and a boy named Winston who towered over everyone. Unlike the first four tributes, these two weren’t happy. In fact, they looked very nervous. Winston stood fidgeting with his shirt and glasses while Terra shuffled her weight back and forth and hugged herself. They didn’t smile at all, though Terra did try for a very weak one when their escort congratulated her.

From District 4 came Penelope and Kai. They both immediately jumped forward to volunteer instead of the tributes who were originally called, and caused more of a commotion with it than the first two districts had. They took the stage with confidence, and had the typical bloodthirsty looks of the Careers. Fareeha decided she’d stay away from them as much as possible.

Nicole and Foster were the tributes of District 5. Fareeha didn’t notice anything that really stood out about them aside from Nicole just about bouncing onto the stage, but Ana warned her and Jesse to not write them off. There had been tributes in the past who were wrongly underestimated, sometimes because they planned it that way. Fareeha tried to keep it in mind, but she was still worried more about the Careers than anyone else.

District 6’s tributes were Lena and Otto. Lena looked like she was struggling not to cry when she took her place on the stage, but by the time she shook hands with Otto she’d gathered herself enough to smile warmly at him. Otto, on the other hand, didn’t smile. He looked indifferent during the entire ceremony, but there was a very faraway look in his eyes that said enough.

District 7’s were Ava and Grover. Ava was so far the youngest tribute, coming from the block of thirteen-year-olds, while Grover was seventeen. They were both crying when they went onstage, and were still crying when they left. Fareeha heard a small huff of frustration from her mother and noticed her turn away from the screen until their reaping was over.

District 8’s were Angela and Jute. Angela looked shocked and dazed on her way to the stage, but quickly became furious, and even looked a little scary. She paused at the stairs and Fareeha half expected her to protest and have to be forced onstage, but Angela grimaced and took her place without a fuss. When Jute was called, he didn’t linger and was very quick about getting to his spot onstage. He wasn’t angry, rather seemed to have already resigned himself to his fate. When they shook hands, Angela’s expression softened considerably. She said something to him, and he only nodded.

District 9 gave Gwenith and Genji. Gwenith looked like she wanted to curl in on herself, and her eyes were glued to the floor during the entire reaping. She hugged herself and cried a little bit, but quickly got her tears under control. When Genji was called, he didn’t immediately make his way to the stage. He was called a second time and still didn’t begin moving. Just before the escort called him a third time he appeared in the walkway between the district’s girls and boys, walking towards the stage but constantly looking behind him as he did, confused for some reason. Even when he was standing beside the escort his eyes were sweeping the crowd, seeming to become more frequent when the call for volunteers went out, his skin turning paler by the second. When none came forward, he looked completely shocked.

Then there was District 10. The girl who was called was named Efi, and she was twelve years old. Gabriel, Ana, Jesse, and Fareeha sucked in sharp breaths when she was shown. She walked up to the stage and took her place, and to her credit she didn’t cry or look very scared. She held her head high, in fact. The escort called for volunteers, and the words were barely out of her mouth before an older girl, eighteen, volunteered and took Efi’s place. Her name was Orisa, and she was Efi’s sister.

There was a collective sigh in the compartment, both of relief and of pity. Kids that young generally didn’t do well in the Games, so they were all glad that she was safe, but at the same time she would likely be losing her sister, and their family would still be sending off a daughter. In the end, it wasn’t fair either way.

There was a small commotion as Efi’s composure broke and she tried to keep Orisa from taking her place, but her sister was having none of it. She marched Efi off of the stage herself and let two other girls take her from there, then took Efi’s place next to 10’s escort. Orisa stood strong and tall on the stage, not looking the least bit scared or upset, just like her sister. In fact, she had a small smile on her lips. The male tribute was named Butch, and he was also eighteen. He didn’t look scared either and stood very calmly. When he and Orisa shook hands, he pulled her in for a long hug.

Then, District 11. Fareeha shifted in her seat and suddenly wanted to get up and leave.

She watched Ambrose pull her name out of the glass ball and call for her. It took a few seconds before she started making her way up to him, and she looked dazed the whole time. Until, of course, her mother started screaming.

The cameras focused in on Ana the moment she began to scream, catching the fear and desperation in her face. She stood, and Gabriel stood up a second after, as if he’d known exactly what she was going to do. He grabbed her, they struggled. She was screaming. They fell to the ground. She was crying.

Ana had turned from the TV completely.

Ambrose called the attention back to him, and the reaping continued. Fareeha looked startled and shaken as she stood beside him, and the camera was too focused on her reaction to catch Gabriel taking Ana away behind her, but the chairs were noticeably empty when they panned back out. Ambrose called Jesse next, and Jesse didn’t waste time going up to the stage. He looked about as angry as Angela had, maybe even more so. He scowled right at the camera.

Finally they moved onto District 12. Tension that Fareeha hadn’t noticed seemed to lift from the room and let everyone relax. They watched District 12’s tributes, Ashley and Jamison, be called. Ashley looked absolutely terrified and Jamison looked…almost excited? Which was rare for someone from 12. Unless, maybe he was feeling bolstered by 12 having won the previous year, but even then…they only had one living victor.

The program ended after 12’s reaping. Ambrose switched off the screen and stood up, practically radiating excitement. “Well, we have a few interesting tributes, don’t we?” he said, eyeing Fareeha specifically. “A couple, a girl who gave herself in place of her sister, and the daughter of a tribute from one of the lower districts – quite a rarity, that last one. I suppose your mother’s outburst will work in your favor as well.” Ana glared at him, but didn’t say anything, though she looked like she would have liked to.

“Will it?” Jesse asked, directing his question at Ana and Gabriel. “Wouldn’t it just make Ana look bad instead of Fareeha look good?”

“It will,” Ana responded sharply. “Like Ambrose said, it’s not often a child of a victor from anywhere but the Career Districts gets picked. _That_ is what will interest them. My reaction? That will pull at their heartstrings, assuming they have hearts. A mother grieving for her daughter – and for once they’ll actually get to see it, not that it’ll mean much beyond good entertainment,” she added bitterly. “Besides, it can’t make me look bad. I’m a mother, I’m allowed to be weak where my child is concerned. Even if it did…who really cares?”

“Anyway, if it isn’t already working for Fareeha then we’ll make it work,” Gabriel added. “No doubt it’ll be brought up during the interview.”

“So, I’m covered on what I’m supposed to play up to, I guess,” Fareeha said, feeling awkward in the entire conversation. “What about Jesse? What should he do?”

“Aw, I’m sure I could win the whole Capitol over with my _boyish charms_ ,” Jesse said, wiggling his eyebrows. Fareeha rolled her eyes.

“You do look good enough for it,” Ambrose piped up, stepping over to Jesse and leaning over to inspect him. Jesse cringed away, but Ambrose either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “A sort of ruggish charm to you, that’s always quite popular.”

Jesse frowned, pushing Ambrose away from him. “By ‘ruggish’ you really just mean ‘poor’, huh?”

Ambrose ignored him. “I’m sure your stylist will figure out what to do with you.” He straightened up and looked around at each of them, smiling. “Well! Today’s been an exciting day, and tomorrow will be even more so! I suggest you all get decent rest before we arrive in the Capitol. I will see you all in the morning.” And with that he was gone.

Fareeha groaned, slumping into her seat. Sleep was the one thing she wanted to do most. She just wanted to stop thinking about the Games for a moment and relax as much as she could. She didn’t even want to _imagine_ what tomorrow would be like.

Gabriel was the first to stand. “Sleep is a good idea. You won’t get much time to rest tomorrow, best to get as much as possible now. ‘Course,” he added with a shrug, “I won’t tell you what to do, yet. Stay up. Raid the kitchen. Sneak into places you shouldn’t.”

“Throw their fancy plates at the windows,” Ana muttered. Fareeha raised an eyebrow.

“Did you do that?” she asked. Ana nodded.

“I was angry and wanted revenge, even if that just meant breaking their pretty china.” She shrugged. “Officially, I’m not saying you should do it. Unofficially…well, you won’t get in trouble. A few less fans, maybe.” Fareeha snorted, now imagining her mother at eighteen throwing the entire set up of the dining table out a window – tablecloth, candelabras and all.

Ana stood up and stretched, then gestured for Fareeha and Jesse to do the same. “Anyways, Gabe won’t tell you what to do, but I will. Bed, both of you. I’m sure you’re both tired, anyway.”

Fareeha and Jesse nodded and got up to head to their rooms, Ana and Gabriel leading the way. Gabriel hugged the two and ruffled their hair before wishing them all a goodnight and leaving. His and Ana’s rooms were just down the hall from theirs, Ana told them, in case they needed anything.

Ana hugged Jesse and pulled him down to kiss his cheek before sending him off. Then she turned to Fareeha, but instead of hugging her goodnight she suddenly became hesitant and asked, “Can I… Could I stay for a little?”

Fareeha nodded immediately.

Inside the room, Fareeha flopped front-first onto the large bed. It was ridiculously soft, too soft in fact, and the fluffy duvet felt like it was made of silk. As she ran her hand across it, she found herself missing her bed at home. It wasn’t as expensive or as big or as pretty as this one, but it was hers, and it was much more comfortable. At least at home she wasn’t nearly sinking into the mattress and the blanket didn’t feel like it’d slip off of her the moment she rolled over.

Ana was walking around the room, running a hand across everything. She stopped at the window and leaned against the sill, staring out into the night. From where Fareeha lay, all she could see was her mother’s reflection against the black sky. She looked younger.

“I’m not sorry for how I acted, so you know,” Ana began, cutting through the silence. “I’m sorry if I scared you, but that’s all. I won’t pretend to be alright with you being thrown into the Hunger Games. I don’t care what the Capitol wants from me.”

“What if that _is_ what they want?” Fareeha asked. “To see you grieving. You and every other mom and dad that has to send their kid off.”

Ana’s reflection grimaced. “I supposed it makes great entertainment,” she grumbled. “Whatever. I won’t hide my feelings, regardless of what they think.”

Fareeha sighed and rolled over, curling up on her side. “But I have to, don’t I?”

A pause, then Ana walked over and sat beside Fareeha, gently pulling her head onto her lap. “Unfortunately. They don’t care for people who openly hate the games, and the government especially doesn’t like you being vocal. You already know that, though. It doesn’t matter in the end anyway. They won’t listen to anything.”

_Not even a protest happening right in front of them_ , Fareeha thought, remembering the Game from three years ago. During the 63rd Hunger Games half of the tributes had banded together in one giant alliance and refused to kill each other in protest. They didn’t make it a secret why they were going against the Hunger Games, either. The bravest of them were constantly vocal about it and talked directly to the audience more than once, shaming people who loved the Hunger Games.

The little rebellion didn’t last long, of course. The Gamemakers wouldn’t have it, and in the end they had their Game. All but one died, and afterward it seemed the Capitol’s citizens just forgot about what had happened. It was good entertainment, an exciting change of pace from the norm, nothing more. It didn’t help that the victor, one of those very vocal people, suddenly became very quiet about everything.

Ana began running her hand through Fareeha’s hair in a soothing gesture. “I’ll keep myself together, though, as your mentor,” she promised.

Speaking of… “Are you scared of going back to the Capitol?” Fareeha asked quietly. Ana’s hand paused, and she thought for a moment that Ana would completely ignore the question, as she tended to do.

Finally, a sigh. “I suppose scared is the best word for it. After fifteen years…but it’s not just the Capitol. Mentoring is not something I enjoy.”

“I’m sorry you have to do it again.”

“Don’t be.” And by her firm tone, that was the end of it.

They fell back into silence, and Fareeha took the time to enjoy her mother’s presence. If she closed her eyes, it was a little easier to pretend that they were back home. They were sitting on the couch in the living room, winding down after a tense day. They’d just gotten back from her dad’s where there had been a small celebration because none of the kids had been taken. Fareeha was safe, and Jesse was, too. She’d go see him in the morning and treat him to cookies from the bakery – sugar were his favorite – to celebrate him making it through his last reaping.

Ana wiped away Fareeha’s tears as she fell asleep dreaming of a better place.


End file.
